


I'm a mess

by spengie



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Chakotay Has Feelings, Episode: s03e15 Coda, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I can't write them happy, Missing Scene, Tags Are Hard, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27240811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spengie/pseuds/spengie
Summary: It was a quiet night on the holographic lake, and although she was standing perfectly still in the middle of the boat, he sensed she was tense, restless. He knew whatever joy they'd shared in the ready room had evaporated.Or, how are either of you not a fucked up mess after that?
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 7
Kudos: 60





	I'm a mess

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scene(s) from Coda. 
> 
> A coda to Coda? No beta, all mistakes are mine alone.

He walked quickly to his quarters. His heart was racing, his hands shaking. A chilling cold sweat broke over his body. His vision blurred, flashes of her, dying, dead, cold on the ground. His numb fingers fumbled with his entry code, desperate to get into his quarters. The doors opened and he lurched inside. Suddenly his legs wouldn't hold him. He sank to the floor, hands grasping, clutching at nothing, at her, at _nothing_. He sagged, folding his forehead to his knees with a shuddering exhalation. Grief, panic, and staggering, devastating _relief_ shook his body, ragged breaths exquisite agony in his chest.

Chakotay rose from the floor slowly. He needed to see her. He needed to touch, to feel her.

Joy, bright and pulsing, flooded through him at the sight of her in her ready room. She looked tired, but alive and reassuringly whole. He handed her the rose he'd brought. He felt her smile permeate his entire being and her elation at being alive gladdened his heart.

****

It was a quiet night on the holographic lake, and although she was standing perfectly still in the middle of the boat, he sensed she was tense, restless. He knew whatever joy they'd shared in the ready room had evaporated. Her body was taut, straining against the soft blue material of her dress. She faced away from him, her face barely in profile, her hair in a loose clip, shining, dancing in the moonlight. It was a balmy night, with a bright moon and a soft, warm breeze.

As he watched her a shiver ran up his spine; he wasn't certain if it was in response to her distress or her moonlit allure. He knew she didn't think of herself as beautiful, knew she didn't think often about her appearance at all. She was though, and it _wrecked_ him, especially tonight, especially after thinking he’d lost her – strikingly, breathtakingly, _devastatingly_ beautiful.

He stepped up behind her. He was not quiet; he didn't intend to startle her. Every cell in his body ached to hold her, but he did not touch her.

“It was terrifying,” she said softly. He waited, patiently motionless, to see if there was more. Suddenly she spun around and surged into him. He caught her; she pressed against him, her arms snaking around his waist her small body tense, trembling. He folded her into his embrace.

Her words were jumbled, erratic, chaotic. “He– I – I died. Over and over, and you – on the planet – you – the Doctor -he, he – he _euthanized_ me. _God, Chakotay_ , he euth –”

She writhed painfully and collapsed against him. His heart clenched, abhorrence and shock at her words. _The Doctor, what– he did what?!_ Abruptly he felt weak, hollow, nauseous. His legs foundered, buckling, and he was forced to sink with her to the cool wooden bottom of the sailboat. His arms tightened convulsively around her.

“I couldn't find – couldn't reach – touch you, oh God, Chakotay, back on th-the ship, my memorial.” She paused, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. “I couldn't leave you.”

“You didn't leave us." His voice was low, soothing. He moved one hand up to stroke her hair. His fingers trembled as he removed her hair clip. He pulled her closer, offering himself as comfort, hands soothing down her back, fingers caressing her silken hair.

“I don't even know what was real. We crashed, we – we fought – Vidiians, they shot you, we – we kept –, back on the shuttle, another crash, and you – you carried me – we got pull – pulled into an anomaly, the shuttle again, and – and a core breach.” Her voice was choked, sobs still punctuating her words. She crushed her face into him, hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. He held her while she wept, continuing the gentle comfort with his hands.

She took a few wretched, painful breaths and snuggled herself to a more fully sitting position in his lap. She began to relax with her cheek against his chest. His hand moved to her shoulder, calming strokes, encouraging her to keep speaking.

“You – you were holding me – begging, shouting. On the planet.” Her voice was rough, turbulent. “You cried.” She took a ragged breath. “And back on Voyager, you were so cool, so unaffected, casual even, at my memorial.” Her tone was offbeat, miserable. “The alien must have tried every version of you to convince me to leave. Everything was so confusing, so – so _heartbreaking_. Watching you at my memorial was disconcerting, painful, I was…distressed, I didn't – I wasn’t sure you –,” she paused, disconsolate. “That was the closest I came to going with him. When I was faced with your – your…” She gestured vaguely with her hand, “…indifference.”

_Pain_ , searing, visceral, shot through him, breath trapped in his throat, stomach twisting violently and he really thought he might be sick. _No. No, Spirits, please, no she – she can't…she has to…_

“Kathryn,” he exhaled, her name a prayer, a desperate plea, perilously, chokingly close to a sob. He pulled her closer, crushing her to him. He was helpless to stop the tears spilling down his cheeks. His breath hitched once, twice. He kissed the top of her hair, nuzzling, greedily allowing himself the indulgence of inhaling her soft scent.

She snuggled into his chest, relaxing into his comforting warmth, and took a long, deep breath. “I'm a mess,” she murmured.

He looked down at her. “Hey." She pushed herself away enough to look up at him. He cupped her cheek. “You cheated death. You're allowed to be unsettled. Or, a mess, if you'd rather. I'll allow some leeway this time.” He smiled at her. She leaned into his touch, eyes soft and dark in the moonlight. His thumb caressed her cheek.

She shifted from his embrace so she could reach up to brush a tear from his face. He closed his eyes and pulled her back against his body, helpless against his fundamental _need_ to hold her. “I – I…” He whispered desperately, “…I can't – can’t let you go yet. Please.” His voice broke. “Forgive me. But please, _please_ , let me hold you for a little longer."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.


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